What Father Doesn't Know
by VampireRae
Summary: Danielle Potter lost her mother when she was very young, and her father, Harry Potter, made a promise to protect her from all the things he failed to protect his wife. Now that Danielle is almost finished with school, she is faced going against what her
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing...jus the plot.

For seventeen years I had the same picture on my mirror. It was of a beautiful lady I never knew before. She looked so elegant, so beautiful, and so perfect. I looked at myself in the mirror. The girl stares back at me with a frown on her face. She looked unhappy and apathetic to attend the dinner party that her father told her she had to go to.

I sighed a heavy sigh and grabbed a hair tie off my vanity. I put my hair up in a messy bun. How can she be so perfect? How could she be my own mother? All I have is this picture of her to remind me who my mother was.

Hermione Granger-Potter was my mother. She married my father just before her parents died. According to my father, Mother was a beautiful woman, full of spirit and very outgoing. She would never back down in a fight, no matter whom she was fighting with. Father also said that Mother was always strong. She had to be. She lost her father when Voldemort was powerful, and her mother died when she was my age, seventeen.

But I guess that all changed. She wasn't strong enough when she had me. She took her last breath when I took my first. She died when she gave birth to me, a good thing too.

She would be ashamed to have a daughter that was ugly, shy, and intimidated easy. Even though Father said I was the prettiest girl he ever seen, besides Mother, I still feel ugly. My hair is limp and stringy; I have eyes that are lifeless; I don't stand as tall as my mother does in the picture. Mother was beautiful. She stood tall in the picture, bedecked in jewelry. Her hair was healthy looking, and seems so shiny and full. Her eyes are bright and full of life. She seemed to be waiting for something or someone. Father perhaps? The little black dress she wore, looked well on her. She probably could wear a burlap sack and make it look good. She was sexy.

I wanted to be like her. These past seventeen years I haven't looked liked her one bit. I wanted to be stunning, elegant, and sexy. I could never be like that. I just could never be like her. No matter how hard I try, I would never be like her.

I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash over me. The lavender shampoo and soap calmed my nerves and my irrationality. When I was done, I slipped into my robe and dried my hair as best as I could. When I walked into my room, I looked at the picture of my mother. She seemed poised and to be looking at me with confidence.

I smiled faintly and shook my head. I was stupid to think that my mother would be ashamed of me. She was my mother, who gave her life up to bring me into the world.

I went to my closet and picked out an outfit for the dinner that night. Instead of grabbing something dull, I picked the black dress that belonged to my mother, the same one in the picture. I put it on carefully, and the silky material seemed so comforting. I smiled slightly and sat down in front of my vanity.

I started to do my hair. I carefully curled each section, until I had ringlets all over. I clipped back the sides and smiled in the mirror. I opened the jewelry box and picked out the same earrings and necklace that Mother was wearing in the picture; I put them on.

I started to do my makeup, something I rarely ever use. I applied very little to my fair skin. When I was done, my father walked in to see how I was doing. She looked shocked from what he saw. I thought he was going to be mad, but when I stood up, he smiled.

"You look just like her, Danielle," he said. I couldn't help to smile broadly now. He gave me a big hug and a kiss on the forehead, and then said, "You are so beautiful, just like your mother. I told you had it in you."

I looked back in the mirror. The girl in it was smiling now. Her eyes were full of joy and life. All these years I have tried to hide who I was, to look no like my mother. I felt guilty of her death. But I knew she gave her life up for me. She has been my role model for seventeen years, and finally, I have become her.


	2. Chapter 2

_August 28_

Dear Diary,

You think it would be easy for me to be the daughter of the famous Harry Potter. Yeah right! I hated being the daughter of Harry Potter. People expect too much of me, to be exactly like him, carefree and adventurous, or even to be her, brainy and clever. I could care less if I was like my parents.

My life as the daughter of The Boy Who Lived isn't really thrilling. Unless you think it's exciting when my dad yells at me, which is liable. I really don't know why he yells. They are stupid things really. It's not easy to be his daughter. I try telling him that, but he won't listen. When I go to school, it's like his first day. Everyone stares at you and whispers behind your back. Wondering if it was really you that was going to their school.

For sixteen years several guys have asked me out. All in which I declined. I figure they only want to go out with because of my name, not because of what my personality was like. Well, there is this one guy, but I know dad won't approve of him, only because he's a Slytherin and that he's the son of an old nemesis of my dad's. Dad could never let bygones be bygones. Marcus isn't such a bad guy. It's just his family name was tainted because of his good for nothing grandfather. Marcus is nothing like his father or grandfather. But my father could care less if Marcus was trying to clean his family's name or whatever.

It would break Dad's heart if he knew what I was doing. Don't get me wrong, I'm still innocent at sixteen, but now that I'm going to be seventeen I could care less. Marcus and I have been secretly dating for two years now. Dad would flip, I know, but I could care less what he thinks now. He really doesn't care about me or what I do, I just remind him too much of Mom.

Uh oh. Dad's coming. I better go now before he notices the light on in two in the morning.

Danielle


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter One  
Faking**

I fell to my bed in tears. Burying my face into my pillow and I just cried. It was the third time that week that my father had yelled at me. I don't know why he would yell at me in the first place. Well I do, but it was stupid in the beginning. I just slammed the door when I came in, but somehow he started yelling at me because of my marks on OWLs and how I would never turn out like her mother.

I don't understand. OWLs were a year ago, and I think I did excellent, even old Dumbledore said I did outstanding. That didn't get me upset though. It was the fact that my father brought Mother into the fight. Whenever he brought up her, I knew I would be crying myself to sleep.

If you must know, I lost my mother when I was only three; my parents only been married for four years and only were 21. The second war happened shortly after they got out of Hogwarts, but it didn't end until four years later. A Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy, took Mother's life and my father never really gotten over it.

When I was accepted to Hogwarts, my father found reasons to be hard on me. I had inherited my father's troublemaking and sense of adventure, but also my mother's cleverness and brains. The five years after I stepped foot in Hogwarts, I stood silent in front of her father when he would yell at me when I would get into trouble or my marks in school weren't great. I always thought that he expected too much from my. I hated being the daughter of a famous wizard. Everyone in the wizard world knew who I was. I was the daughter of Harry and Hermione Potter.

I inherited more than my parents' personality. One look at me, and you knew I was their daughter. I have waist-length raven-colored hair that was curly and was mostly in a ponytail or braided. I had her mother's honey eyes and was tall like my father. One thing that I loved was that I also had my mother's curvy shape that she had at the age of sixteen. I play quidditch...just like my father, but as I said before, I'm also an excellent student in school. I was both of my parents in one.

Everyone expected so much from me. I hate it. I don't understand why my father hated me so much. So, almost every night, I cry myself to sleep, thinking about how much I loved my father, but hated him at the same time.

A soft tapping sound at me window caught my attention. Looking up from my tear soaked pillow, I saw a beautiful tawny owl sitting on the window's ledge. I smiled weakly, got up from my bed, and walked towards the window. I opened the window quietly and the owl flew in and landed on my shoulder.

"Midas. So good to see you," I softly whispered. I gently rubbed my thumb on the tawny's breast. The owl gave a soft hoot, dropped the letter it was holding in it's beak into my hand, and flew to the cage on the other side of the room where it rested.

I smiled again. I love it when my owl would come back with a letter from a friend. I noticed the green writing on the roll of parchment right away. It belonged to Marcus Malfoy, the boy I loved since my first year at Hogwarts. I was about to open the letter when I heard my father outside her door. I ran to my bed, jumping on it, and shoved the letter under my pillow and crawled quickly under her bed covers. I rested my head on the wet pillow and closed my eyes just as my father opened the door. I felt the hallway light on my face and could hear Midas hooting softly. I could hear my father approach my bedside, and felt him sit down beside me. His hand touched my cheek, the same cheek he had hit earlier.

"Dani?" her father whispered softly. "Sweetie, if you're awake, please open your eyes. Please Sweetheart."

I could hear my father's voice break but I refused to open my eyes. He gently brushed a stray curl away from my face and got up to leave my room. After I heard the door click shut, I started to cry, silent tears.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Two  
Unwinding**

I woke up in a state of panic. My cotton sheets clung to me from the sweat and the humidity in the room. For late August, the weather was unbearable. It was still dark outside, but from my east-facing window, the horizon was starting to turn a dusty blue-gray color. Getting out of bed, I walked to my adjoining bathroom, and turned on the light. Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I turned on the cold water and splashed my face. I looked up into the mirror at my reflection. My right cheek was slightly swollen and bruised. Shaking my head I walked out of the bathroom, leaving the light on. I grabbed a knee-length black skirt, a white button-down blouse, and my underwear and bra, and walked back into the bathroom and shut the door.

'I really need to take a nice long shower,' I said to myself. I turned on the water in the shower. Soon, the whole bathroom was steamed up. I quickly got undressed and stepped into the shower. The hot water seemed to loosen my tired, sleepy muscles. It felt good to just relax under the hot streams of water.

I grabbed some shampoo off the ledge and squeezed some of the palm of my hand. The scent of raspberries hit my nose, and seemed more awake than before. I started to massage the shampoo into my scalp, trying my hardest not to get too much the ends. It was hard enough to brush my hair; I didn't need any more tangles. I put my head under the hot water and let the water rinse away the lather on my head. I started to massage my temples and then the rest of my scalp. Soon, there was no more shampoo in my hair.

I picked up the conditioner and opened it. Raspberries again. I put a small amount in my hand and applied it to my length of my hair, careful not to even get near my head. I didn't need to look greasy, just sleek. I twisted my hair up into a bun, grabbed the claw clip from the rail and secured my hair up.

I grabbed the body wash next. That, too, was raspberry. I have a thing for raspberries. It's the only fruit that I ever liked, and I think it had to do with my mother. It was one thing that I remembered about her. She always smelled sweet. As much as I hate thinking about her, I can't help but smelling raspberries to remember her. Shaking my head, I poured some body wash into the palm of my hand. Working it into a rich lather, my mind started to wonder again.

I started thinking about how this was my last year at Hogwarts. 'I have one more year of dating Marcus, then what? Leave my father and run away with Marcus?' I thought to myself.

"That won't be too bad," I answered. I laughed at the thought of my father's reaction if I told him that I was getting out of the house to live with Marcus Malfoy. "He won't like it." I knew that much.

I rinsed the lather off my body and stood under the hot water a little longer. 'Do I really want to live at home after I graduate?' 'Of course not.' 'But you love your father...' 'But I also can't stand him. Knowing him, he probably find a way to criticize me being an Auror.'

"Would you shut up!" I scolded myself. I hated when my 'two sides' would argue. Yes, I have two sides. No, I'm not crazy either. They are my consciences; my father told me that I have inherited that from my mother as well. Seems like everything he doesn't like came from my mother. I took the claw clip out of my hair and rinsed out the conditioner.

I turned the water off and opened the shower curtain. I grabbed one of the two fluffy yellow towels off the hook by the shower and wrapped it around me. I grabbed the other one, flipped my head down, and wrapped it up.

I righted myself and walked to the vanity and turned on the water. I grabbed my toothbrush, put some toothpaste on, and started to brush my teeth and tongue. When I was done, I rinsed out my mouth with some cool water.

I unwrapped the towel, letting it drop to the floor. I started to put on my clothes. I just started to button up my blouse when there was a knock at the bathroom door. There was no doubt that it was my father. Even though a little part of me really wanted it to be Marcus.

"Yeah?" I answered.

"Can we talk?" my father responded.

'No, we can't talk. I don't want to talk to you until I'm at your funeral.'

"Sure. Hold on. I need to finish getting dressed," I said. I fastened up the rest of the buttons on my shirt and took my hair out of the towel. Looking in the mirror quickly, I grabbed my hairbrush and walked to the door. I open the door slowly and saw my father standing there in his pajama pants and robe. I turned my head to the right, trying to hide the bruise. "So what do you want to talk about?"

My father looked at me and then at his watch. "It's almost six in the morning. Why are you up this early?"

I looked at him and shrugged, "I couldn't sleep." I walked past him, towards my bed, and sat down. I began brushing my long hair, trying not to look at him, and keeping my cheek out of his sight. I know what will happen if he saw it.

He turned around and walked towards me. I was still gazing down at the floor, and I saw his slippers in front of me. He lifted my chin and turned my head to the left to examine my cheek.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart," he said, sounding sincere.

'Sure you are. You're never sorry when you hit me.'

"It's okay Dad. I'm fine," I lied.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

'Damn I'm going to hell. How many lies was that now?'

I looked up at him. His eyes were glazed over; I know he's going to cry sometime. I didn't want to witness it. I got up, but he caught my arm.

"Dad, I need to go. You know how this is going to turn out if I stay," I pleaded.

'Hurt. I'll end up hurt again. I don't need that Dad; can't you see? I'm broken enough.'

He only nodded, and let me go. I walked down the stairs to the living room. I grabbed some Floo Powder from the mantle from the fireplace, stepped into it, threw the powder down and said, "Marcus Malfoy, Malfoy Manner."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Three  
Heated**

I walked out of the fireplace, coughing out the soot that I had inhaled traveling. My eyes were stinging from the puff of ash that accumulated when I arrived. Soot and ash stuck to my waist length hair. I stepped out of the fireplace, rubbing my eyes, trying to end the irritation the ash made.

"Danielle?" a low voice said.

"Marcus," I coughed out, "Sorry about the intrusion."

"No. It's quite all right."

I rubbed my eyes once more, and opened them up. My cheeks instantly went red and I turned away. Even though we had our rendezvous time after time; we loved each other, yes. But still, seeing him in his boxers, well, you know what I'm getting at.

"Marcus, could you please put some clothes on?" I asked, with my back facing him.

"Geez, Dani. We've been together for how long now? Three years?"

"Two and a half, actually."

"And you're still embarrassed to see me like this?" I heard him walk closer to me, to the point where I could feel his breath on the back of my neck.

"Uh..."

Marcus laughed at my uneasiness. I felt his hands at my waist and he spun me around so I could face him. "You are embarrassed, aren't you?" I hid my right cheek from him so he won't see the bruise.

"No. I'm just –"

"Embarrassed."

"I am not!" I said defending myself. Truth was I was not embarrassed just surprised. I never expected him to be in his boxers still. He was the guy that usually was dressed by 5 a.m. "I just expected you to be dressed by now!"

"It's okay Danielle. I never knew my body had this effect on you," Marcus said, kissing my temple.

"You are so full of yourself," I laughed.

"And you love me for it," he smirked. "But I see that you got my letter. But I swear that I told you to come by tomorrow, not today."

My eyes got wide. I forgot about the letter. It was till under my pillow from the night before, in my unmade bed, the same bed that my father was probably making right now.

"Dani? What's the matter?"

"I never read it. I put it under my pillow, and I know my father is going to find it." I rested my head against Marcus's chest, hiding the bruise still.

Marcus patted my back and asked, "You never told him? Dani, I thought we agreed to –"

"I know!" I interrupted him. "It's just that he's so harsh on me with school and my behavior, I'm just afraid how he's going to react when I tell him I'm in love with you, a Malfoy. What he would do with me is beyond what I can imagine."

"Dani..." he whispered. He pulled back and lifted my chin so I would look at him. He turned my head to the left; he had seen the bruise. "What the hell Dani? Did he do that to you?"

"It's not what you think Marcus–"

"I know what I think is the truth, Dani!" he interrupted me. "He hit you, didn't he?"

"Calm down Marcus, please. You're making a mountain out of a mole hill."

"I am not. God damn it Danielle. This is the fifth time you've come here with a bruise, and always covering you're dad's arse! He nothing but a drunk beating his daughter! "

My eyes went wide, and before I knew it, my right hand collided with his left cheek. "Don't you ever talk about my father like that! Ever! He is not a drunk!"

Tears stung my eyes; turning on my heel, I sauntered back to the fireplace. I have grabbed a handful of Floo powder. I was about to step into the fireplace when I felt Marcus's hands on my waist. I shut my eyes, letting the tears fall, and my head hung.

"Dani," Marcus whispered in my ear. He turned me around to face him, and I noticed his left cheek was a little red. I lifted my hand to touch it, try to soothe it. It was warm under my fingertips.

I searched his gray eyes, trying to find what he was thinking. My eyes traveled down his body, noting he was wearing jeans now, but still, no shirt. My eyes wondered back to his. Once or eyes met, he bent down and kissed me on the lips. My hands wrapped around his neck and kissed him back. Marcus's hands moved from my waist to my upper back. My hands wander from his neck down to the button of his jeans. Marcus's hand slowly found it's way to the front of my shirt. He slowly started to unbutton my shirt, when I backed away from the kiss.

"What?" he breathed.

I rested my head on his shoulder. "Nothing."

"Nothing? Then why did you stop?"

"I don't know."

"I think you do."

I sighed heavily. "Marcus, I want to–"

"Then, let's."

"But it's just that…"

"You're worried about your father," Marcus said, letting me go.

I nodded.

"Then go. Go Dani. I don't mind," Marcus said. I could pick up a little sarcastic tone in his voice.

"I'll stay, thank you."

"Fine." He walked away from me, towards his adjoining bathroom. Out of habit, I followed him. He turned on the water at the sink and splashed his face. He grabbed a towel and wiped his face. "I don't get you, Danielle. I really don't get you. Every time we are together, you always think about your father. About how he would react about us; what he would do if he found out. And I'm sick of it Danielle. Dead sick. You got to get a backbone with that guy. He is just your father, not some dictator in your life."

"Marcus –"

"No Dani. I'm tired of you making excuses for him, for you, for us! I don't think I can handle it any longer." He leaned forward on the counter, his head hanging down.

"I'm sorry. If you want, I'll stay and try not to think about it," I apologized. I walked towards him, wrapping my arms around him from behind. "I love you Marcus, really, I do."

He turned around to face me. I looked up at him. He was still a little angry, by the look in his eyes, but I knew that would fizzle soon. I stood up on my tiptoes and kissed his bottom lip. He responded right away by wrapping his arms around my waist and picked me up. He pulled away for a moment.

"Promise?" he asked.

"Promise," I smiled.


End file.
